


press play

by powderblew



Series: clear skies and warm nostalgia [11]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff, atsumu finds her playlist with his name on it, idiot in love, reader is female
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-24 02:13:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30065073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/powderblew/pseuds/powderblew
Summary: Atsumu’s pace is quickening and still, her heart goes slow. —Atsumu/Reader
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Reader
Series: clear skies and warm nostalgia [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2192649
Comments: 8
Kudos: 28





	press play

Atsumu always wondered why she wore such over-sized hoodies, but now, he can’t really complain. It’s literally been _pissing_ rain since early morning, as much as he wants to stay late and train, nothing is worth getting drenched during Satan’s hissy fit. Even Osamu ran off before he can hitch an umbrella with him.

_Jackass._

He grits his teeth.

She had given him an extra hoodie – how many items of clothing do girls even keep in their locker anyway? – just when the bell rang. Honestly, he could always count on her to be prepared, he liked to roll with the punches, but still, still he wonders if bothers her just a little too much.

He thought about it for at least a split second.

Then he shrugs; he really doesn’t care.

Atsumu will bother her until the day he dies.

He slips on the hoodie, tugging the heavy white cotton over his head, and is immediately engulfed in her scent. The faint hints of perfume remain and he can almost feel the lingering heat from her person. He can’t rationalize why exactly he inhaled her hoodie like an addict.

Tugging the hood over his head, he grabs his sports bag, pulling it over his shoulder, and shoves his hands into the pockets.

That’s when he feels it.

The glass screen, plasticky wires, and soft buttons. He frowns and pulls out the iPod connected by earphones. He stares at the piece of electronic with a blank face; who the _hell_ still uses an iPod in this day and age?

Her, apparently.

Switching the power button on, Atsumu clicks the home screen and clicks the library.

Well, it’s not like he’s _snooping._ He just wants to know what types of music she listens to, maybe they can go to a concert just after midterms; he’s getting tired of listening to the same songs over and over again.

Atsumu slips on the earphones and scrolls down to playlists.

His fingers freeze when he comes across a certain title and his mouth parts.

_Atsumu._

She made a playlist with his name on it.

There’s a sudden twist in his chest, painful and wonderful. The world tilts, leaving the hot rush of blood in his ears as he stares down at the kanji printed on the screen. There’s a playlist with his _name_ on it. He can repeat the same words, the same tone, and syntax a thousand times but that will still not change the fact that it _exists._

Atsumu doesn’t know why his thumb shakes when he clicks on the _play_ button.

He doesn’t know if he’s cold or if he’s hot when he takes his time walking home in the rain.

There are so many _songs,_ and maybe—maybe he’s overthinking everything. Atsumu listens to the words of each song, carefully. From the upbeat pop, to the slow R&Bs, to the random touches of classical piano music, to the sensual slow synth beats, to the ballads and raw heartbreak. The theme is intertwined with hope, angst, pining, and love. So much _love,_ that he can’t tell if it’s tears in his eyes or rain.

He skips around because there are _way_ too many songs to listen to. He adjusts the settings to _most plays_ and leaves it there.

Atsumu walks and walks until he’s in front of her door.

He’s on autopilot now—the edges of his vision blur in a haze of silver and blue.

He doesn’t know when or how he reaches here because his fist is already reaching to rap on the front door. He tugs off the earphones, his hand is shaking as he grabs the iPod in one hand, the music still playing and muffled by the splatters of rain.

She opens the door – all normal, with fleece pajama pants and sweater big enough to swallow her form – and she frowns when she sees Atsumu all wet—he’s going to get sick like this and just as she’s about to open her mouth, to scold him for his carelessness—

—Atsumu cups the back of her neck with his free hand and kisses her before he has time to think. 

**Author's Note:**

> pls drop a comment on your way out <3  
> catch me on [tumblr](https://sleepysonia.tumblr.com)


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